Falling into the trope of the lonely out-of-town drifter looking for work, I got a job waiting tables at the local diner. It was one of those small town places with a kitschy name meant to draw in tourists and paid its employees like shit. At least I was able to help Jody with utilities and such.

No hunting. Not at first.

But it wasn't as if I could fall completely off the grid. Of all the people to contact me, Garth called a few weeks after my arrival in Sioux Falls and asked for help with some research. He erroneously assumed I still had ready access to Bobby's books. I didn't, but I knew where they were: back in Rufus' cabin collecting dust.

A short trip in the Sheriff's vehicle later and the tomes were piled in my bedroom. After that, I became a de facto source for information as Garth spread my number around to the hunter community (without my permission, might I add). I ran part time at the diner for real money and spent the rest of it on the phone. I would have set up some fake FBI lines as Bobby once had, but that was where the Sheriff's law-breaking drew a line, particularly in her own home.

One Thursday afternoon, just as I was about to dive into tulpa lore, I got a voicemail from Kevin. This was surprising in two ways, the first being: how the hell did the kid get my number? The second was the message itself.

"Hey, baaaaabe. You know you kinda remind me of my ex-girlfriend? She's not really my ex but she don't know that." A bout of chuckles descended into sobs. After a few seconds it stopped. A tremendous, phlegmy sniff followed. "It's five by five and whatevs. I just got demons on my ass all the time and stuff." His tone turned whiny. "Can you ask Sam and Dean to call me?" Belligerence followed. "Or tell them to fuck off since they never answer the phone. By the way," he whispered conspiratorially, "I think you're hot and I'm not a virgin, hint hint."

The kid was drunk, but obviously free from Crowley. How he did it, when he did it, where he was; I had answers to zero of these questions. Not only that, but I still hadn't tracked down Sam. Why the hell wouldn't he have called the kid back?

I did, however, with Jody's help, find Kevin's mother and decided to pay her a visit.

Ms. Tran lived in Neighbor, Michigan in a home that wouldn't have been out of place on the cover of Good Housekeeping. Nice lawn, flowers, van in the driveway, the works. I kept watch on her for a few days and realized I wasn't the only one doing so. Mailman, gardener, and a middle-aged friend of hers; either they were demons, shapeshifters, or really, really oversolicitous.

Then the mailman looked at me and blinked black eyes and I knew the answer. I also knew the warning: stay away.

If Crowley was using Ms. Tran to lure Kevin back home then alerting his mother to his situation would bring more trouble down on them. By the hand wringing and multiple glasses of wine I doubted she was possessed. Best to leave things alone for now.

I started to get angry. Kevin was a kid, prophet or no, and he'd been dragged into this world of walking nightmares by fate instead of choice. I needed help, and since Garth and his weirdly large number of contacts had nothing I needed to double down on finding Sam. When I enlisted Josie in the hunt I asked her to only look for him using the computer. If she found him, just call me. After all, there was no telling what sort of nonsense the remaining Winchester was embroiled in, and remember Crowley and the angel?

Little less than six months after Dick had been dicked, Josie came through. When she told me where he was and what he was doing I went from angry to fucking livid.

That selfish son of a bitch was doing absolutely nothing.

I kept watch as Sam and the curly-haired veterinarian moved into their little rental home in Texas. She was an all right sort, and definitely human. They even had a freaking dog; a bundle of hyper Australian Shepherd who ensured that Sam wouldn't be getting a wake-up knife to the throat any time soon.

I waited until they were settled and he was alone before knocking.

Okay, I swear I'd walked up to the door wanting to just talk. Tell Sam what was going on and let him explain his indolence. It was a plan formulated with consideration towards our shared loss, words and phrases chosen with care. I'd let him know I was upset, but also give him time to absorb my presence and my tidings.

"Eva? What—"

Sam didn't get another word in before I planted my fist in his stomach. He stumbled backwards and fell, upsetting the coffee table and the knickknacks that were on it.

Despite not having been hunting, Sam was still fit. He was on his feet in seconds, hands out. "What the hell do you—"

I grabbed one of his wrists, yanked him down to my level, and punched him in the nose. Sam reeled back when I let him go. "THIS is what you've been doing?" I yelled. "Playing house with some fucking bitch?"

He had to have been seeing stars, and blood was streaming down one nostril, but that didn't stop Sam from lurching towards me to protect his woman's honor. "Don't you dare talk about Amelia that way!" he shouted, one of his fingers stabbing at my chest.

"Get your fucking finger away from me," I snarled. I pushed him away, withdrew my phone, and hit play on Kevin's voicemail.

With every word, Sam's anger dissipated and his shame grew. By the time he heard those last furious words (I cut it off before Kevin's clumsy attempt to proposition me), the younger Winchester was sitting on his sofa, hands clasped and head down. He wiped a hand down his face and sighed. "Shit."

"Help me find him," I demanded. "After that, you can come back here to your doggy doctor and do whatever the fuck you want."

Sam sat there, pensive. "Did you try to trace his phone?"

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"I could show you."

"Fuck you."

He stood up and paced. "What about his mom?"

"Covered in demons."

"Social media?" I shrugged. "His old school? Friends? Hell, did you even google his name?"

Way to make me feel stupid. "No."

His brow furrowed. "Eva, you're smart enough to know to do all that. Something else is going on. You wanna tell me what this is really all about?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "The fuck you talking about?"

"I know your sister is the computer whiz, but this is easy stuff. You wanted help with something else other than Kevin."

Did I? "Fuck you."

Sam shook his head. "Eva, I know you. You wouldn't be this pissed over a kid you barely met."

"You left the kid out there to die!" I refuted loudly. "He's been trying to call you and you couldn't pick up the fucking phone. You knew Crowley took him and you didn't even bother trying to find him!"

"How?" He whipped his arms outwards. "How the hell was I supposed to overcome all the spells and demons he had covering Kevin?"

"You could have at least tried. And that doesn't explain you not checking your fucking messages!"

Sam squirmed. "I tossed most of our phones."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not hunting anymore! What was I supposed to do with a bunch of useless burner cells?"

"Keep one for emergencies? Remember that I'm still around? Hope to fucking God someone was going to call one?"

"Who? Who the hell other than you and Kevin would even think to call me?"

"How about your FUCKING BROTHER?"

I was screaming in his face at that point. Unfortunately, Sam didn't look contrite; instead he looked grimly satisfied. "I knew it." He ignored my scowl. "Dean's gone, Eva. There's nothing we can do."

The certainty in his statement, the grim confidence, absolutely infuriated me. I slapped the shit out of him. With my fist. "Fuck you, Sam."

He stumbled sideways. "Stop hitting me!"

"Make me."

I kicked out and he smacked my leg out of the way. The incoming punch I leaned away from, used his momentum to keep him moving, and shoved him into his door. He pulled himself to his feet, clearly enraged and ready to kick my ass, but pulled himself short when the lock began to rattle. "Sam? Sam, what's going on? Are you okay? Whose car is in the driveway?"

Must be the doggy doctor. I took a step forward and he put a hand out. Pleadingly, Sam said, "Don't."

I threw my hands up and walked away. Sam picked himself up and let in his woman. She glanced suspiciously at me before gasping at the state of her home and her boyfriend, "Oh my God! What the hell happened?"

It took me a second to realize someone was sniffing my ass. Their dog was investigating the intruder. He must have come in with the doc. Apparently he liked what he smelled; after a bit he sat down and gave me a sappy, tongue-wagging smile. I couldn't help kneeling down to get to know him better.

The dog spent a hyper minute licking away my eyeliner as "Amelia" made a lot of distressed noises at Sam. By the time he'd calmed her down I had my hands buried in their pet's belly, rubbing away for all I was worth. "Who's a good doggy? You are! Aren't you?"

Of course, that's exactly when Sam and Amelia got silent. I tried to be nonchalant. "What?"

"This is Eva," Sam explained. "She's… an old friend."

Amelia glanced suspiciously from me to him. "'Friend'."

"Don't worry," I said as I stood. "We haven't fucked for years." I gave them both a feral grin. "Right, Sam?"

His jaw tightened. "That's way in the past," he told Amelia. "As for you," he said to me, "I already told you: he's gone. They're all gone. I've moved on. If you can't, then that's on you."

To my surprise, the anger in Amelia's face melted into pity. "Oh. You knew his brother."

"Biblically," I replied. Her eyebrows lifted. Yes, lady. I've fucked both Winchesters. Not to mention their best friend. Not as if your boy here hasn't gotten around.

Sam sighed. "Eva, enough."

It was obvious Sam wasn't going to budge. "Give me your new number."

"What?" Sam asked, annoyed. "Why?"

"Because we're 'old friends'. Why do you think, dickwad?"

"Just do it," Amelia said quietly. "We all need someone, just in case."

She was probably thinking I needed Sam for… whatever dysfunctional emotions she thought I had. To be fair, I wasn't completely sure why I wanted it. Part of me wanted to have the opportunity to gloat once I'd found the missing members of our little group.

Part of me needed someone. Just in case.

I handed over my phone and Sam added himself in. At this point I think I'd maximized the amount of disruption I could cause in a single visit. Without further ado I snatched my phone back and left, taking care to slam the door closed on the way out.

I got nowhere looking for Kevin. Little shit knew how to hide, even digitally. It was the first time in years I heard my sister actually whine in legitimate frustration at her failure.

No Kevin. Furious at Sam. No Dean.

No Castiel.

My days fell into a routine. Wake up, head to work. Tend tables for four hours. Go back to Jody's. Return and field calls from hunters. Make a cursory attempt to see if anything had cropped up about Kevin. Sleep for a few. Wash, rinse, and repeat.

At least this time my unending cycle of misery didn't include an attempt to fuck or drink myself to death. At first. It was mundane, semi-normal even, something I'd wanted for a long time. I couldn't pin down when I last had any sense of normalcy in my life, what with how being entwined with the Winchesters made for all sorts of unexpected twists and turns. I should have been content. Happy, even.

Instead I was miserable, so much so that I got myself fired from my job. There were only so many times you could tell rude customers to go fuck themselves before management gave you the boot. Oh, I kept up being the de facto researcher for the hunter community, but I also started to slip into old habits. Not the fucking random men (for Jody's sake if nothing else), but the drinking and belligerence. The poor sheriff had to bail me out of a holding cell a few times.

Finally, Jody sat me down on the couch one night after dinner and said, "You can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

She waved her hand around. "This. It's not you, Eva."

I sighed. "So?"

"Eva, you've had one foot in the normal world and the other in monsterland. It's not working out. Both of us, I think, know where both feet want to be."

Yes, but… "I'm alone. I don't know how to be alone anymore."

She batted me on the shoulder with an open palm. "Hey, what am I? Chopped liver? You let me know where you're at once in a while and I won't go hunting you down. In fact, you come through North Dakota you got yourself room and board."

Unexpectedly, I felt a smile bend the corners of my mouth. "Okay."

I'd been borrowing Josie's SUV whenever I drove, but now I needed wheels of my own. Didn't take long; I had connections. A few days after deciding to pack up, a felon unhappily lost his Honda BTX to the Sioux Falls Sheriff Department. Jody "lost" the paperwork and gave it to me. Scraping up what little savings I had got me a bunch of used weapons, including a katana and a gun. Replaced my bow after a productive night (of cheating) at the blackjack tables in Atlantic City.

Even though I started going on the road, Garth continued to direct queries at me. I don't even remember exactly what he said when I told him to find someone else, I just know that he used his annoyingly peaceful charm and rational turns of phrase to make me acquiesce. A deal was struck: I would remain available for research at the Montana cabin and he would let me know of any jobs nearby. Smooth motherfucker even had me thanking him while I agreed to it.

It was another routine. This one, at least, I could live with.

Another six months passed.

Then… he called.

A car came to a rolling stop in the gravel. It was too good to be true. Maybe it had been a prank, or a demon, or a shifter, or any number of unknown monsters capable of imitating a human voice. Or maybe I'd gone full-on crazy and had imagined the whole thing.

I stood up and waited and did my best not to give in to hope.

The door opened.

And there he was.

Dean Winchester. Six feet of green-eyed handsomeness looking none the worse for wear.

We stared at one another for a long, long moment before either of us moved. I stepped forward and expected to be hugged or kissed or be subjected to any number of romantically infused gestures. Instead I found my face splashed with water and cleaning solution. I wiped a hand down my face. "The fuck…?"

"Here," Dean demanded, the handle of a silver knife pointed at me.

"I'm not a—" Before I could finish objecting, Dean reached out, pulled my arm forward, and made a shallow nick in the flesh. "OW!"

"Okay, good." Goddamn stupid, paranoid son of a bitch. I prepped to smack the ever loving shit out of him, but before I could do more than think about it he used his grip to yank me into an embrace. I opened my mouth to expel more profanities and found myself being quite thoroughly, and demandingly, kissed.

Desire and fear warred for prominence as he devoured me. There was no room for thought, for objections, for anything other than meeting his wants. He backed us up a few steps, one of his hands clutching at my back. The edge of the splintery table bumped against my back and he backed away to catch his breath.

I managed to gasp out, "Dean, I—" but he wasn't interested in words. Instead, his mouth was on mine again as he tore at my clothes, recklessly pulling apart the button and zipper of my jeans. My pants and panties were rucked downwards and off. I tried to say something. "Wait, what—"

He shot back up to bury his nose in my neck, his body slotted between my legs as his teeth gently bit my ear. Words fled as his fingers explored my sex and found it warm, wet, and welcoming. One entered me and I couldn't stop myself from crying out his name. He moved skillfully in and out, his breath in my ear as he inhaled deeply, our moaning duet the only other sound.

I felt Dean reach behind me and sweep his arm across the tabletop. Things clattered to the floor as he unzipped. Apparently it was clear enough; he grasped me at the hips to lift and deposit me on the wood. Before anything else could be said or done he was leaning over, lining himself up, and plunging in.

There was no waiting for me to adjust. Dean just began to drive into me, his hips snapping in a pattern that was regular, deep, and hard. I held on as best I could, my fingers locked in his shirt, crying out at every thrust.

He slowed and pushed up my shirt and bra. His lips and tongue were on my breast and I couldn't help myself from wrapping my fingers into his hair.

Then he bit down.

It wasn't hard enough to break skin, but it flew right past the point of pleasure into pain. I shrieked and pushed at his head. When Dean lifted up and stared at me, I noticed something had changed in his expression. His teeth bared and there was a darkness in his eyes I had never seen before. He grabbed my wrists in a bruising grip and slammed them down onto the table.

Dean had always been a gentle lover. Even at his most passionate he was conscious of me, his eyes locked with mine as often as possible no matter where his hands wandered. His heart was in his movements, as if we were connected by more than just physical joining, and it made all the difference between the one night stand we'd had all those years ago and how he'd made love to me before he'd disappeared.

This… This was different. This was something more primal, more desperate. There was nothing here but need.

The furniture shook as he took me, my cries filling the cabin. He alternatively grunted and cursed, his pace quickening. At the end he gave one final, harsh thrust, nearly tipping the table over as he spent himself in me.

Dean tilted over onto my chest, his head resting on the damp skin between my breasts. His arms slid under me, holding me close. In a hoarse whisper, he said, "I missed you." After a minute or so of just squeezing me to him he lifted us both upright.

I was confused and exhausted. I never told him to stop; truth be told, I didn't want him to. Even though I hadn't peaked, I had still enjoyed it. I just don't know if he would have if I had asked. However, I had a less abstract question for him. "Dean, what hap—"

He kissed me softly. "Can it wait?" Dean whispered, his eyes on my lips while his hand slid up my thigh. "It can wait," he replied to himself as he leaned over and nuzzled my neck.

I tilted my head over and closed my eyes. It was just Dean being his usual horny, scarred, and violent self, I told myself. Words flew from my head as he used his fingers to give me the climax he'd neglected. By the time I was coming down, Dean was ready again. He drew me to the couch, languid strokes of his tongue stealing my breath as he entered me once again.

Our second round was far more tender than the first. We lay together after, my body draped over his with arms tight around me. When I moved, they got tighter. "What's wrong?" I asked quietly.

"Nothing."

I put my hands on Dean's chest and pushed myself up to look him in the eyes. "Bullshit."

"Later, okay?" He drew me back down. "Later. I promise."

I gave him a wordless, disgruntled reply. Fortunately for him, I was tired enough to fall asleep shortly after, his shoulder serving for a pillow.

The thump of a body hitting the floor startled me awake. I spent a bit groping about for a weapon before recognizing the voice doing the shouting. Guess Dean was greeting Sam the same way he did me. Didn't think it would lead to the same afterwards, however.

"No!" Sam was saying to the knife being held out to him. "Dean, can I just say hello?"

I realized I had no clothes as Dean was slicing his own arm with a silver knife. Thankfully, my shirt and bra hadn't gotten far; everything was m in a pile on the floor barely in arm's reach.

I quietly pulled on my shirt as they had their reunion. After a bit I heard them pounding each other on the back, Sam expressing shock about his brother's reappearance. He managed to finish the question I hadn't been allowed to. "What happened?"

Dean shrugged in response. "Well, I guess standing too close to exploding Dick sends your ass straight to Purgatory."

"Purgatory?" I said, startling Sam. "You were in Purgatory?"

My mussed hair and half-dressed state left no question as to what we'd been doing. At least Dean had covered my ass with a blanket or I'd have given Sam a show. Regardless, he gawped. "Eva, what—?"

"Shut the fuck up," I snapped. My gaze shot over to Dean. "Explain."

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "What's there to explain? Spent the entire time runnin' for my life."

"How did you get out?" Sam asked quietly.

The smirk on Dean's face looked almost right. "I guess whoever built that box didn't want me in there any more than I did."

"What does that mean?"

Exasperated, Dean threw up his hands. "I'm here, okay?"

"But what about Cass?" I asked quietly.

Dean turned his back to me. "He didn't make it."

My breath hitched. "He's dead?"

He still didn't want to look at me. "Something happened to him down there. Things got pretty hairy towards the end, and he… just let go."

It didn't sound right, neither his tone nor the explanation. Damn him, he wasn't telling the whole truth. At least that part of his personality hadn't changed.

Sam asked the question I didn't dare to. "You saw him die?"

"I saw enough."

"So, then what, you're not sure?"

Dean finally whirled around to face us, fists clenched and eyes blazing. "I said I saw enough , Sam."

Well, that was an answer. Not a good one, mind you, but still an answer. Softly, I told Sam, "Let it go."

He sighed and did what I asked. After all, other than Dean I was the one who had the most right to know what had happened to the angel. Besides, something he said was rubbing me the wrong way. I could feel the fury simmering, but I couldn't pinpoint the reason. Not yet.

I pulled more clothes back on as they talked. It didn't take long for Dean to suss out that his brother had been idle for the past year and he was furious. "You quit?"

"You were gone, Dean. Cass was gone, Bobby was dead. I mean, Crowley even shipped off Kevin and Meg to parts unknown." Not to mention ignoring the fact that they were still out there and that I was still about. Sam never called to ask about my well-being, not even once.

There was plenty of shit for me to pile onto Sam, but I let Dean have the floor. "So you just turned tail on the family business."

"Nothing says 'family' quite like the whole family being dead."

Sam had a point. But Dean had a better one. "I wasn't dead. In fact, I was knee-deep in God's armpit killing monsters, which, I thought, is what we actually do."

"Yes, Dean. And far as I knew, what we do is the thing that got every single member of my family killed. The only person left…" He glanced at me. Nothing really needed to be said; we all knew our history. "I didn't exactly have a roadmap. So, yeah, I fixed up the Impala, and I just… drove."

"After you looked for me." Uh oh. "Did you look for me, Sam?" Sam gazed at the floor. "Good. That's good." Dean looked at me. The pain and fury in his eyes echoed what I'd seen when our lovemaking had turned harsh. "Hey, did you know we always said not to look for each other? Get on with our lives and shit if one of us went missing."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Stupid fucking thing to tell each other."

"Sure, but we always ignored that because of our deep, abiding love for one another," he turned back to his brother, "but not this time, right, Sammy?

Before Sam could reply, Dean stormed out the door, slamming it so hard the windows rattled. "Welcome home," the remaining Winchester sighed. He turned to me. "Thanks for the help."

I scowled and stood. "You dug your own grave. Now lie in it."

Sam grimaced and ran his fingers through his hair. "Did you tell him anything?"

"I got here, Dean threw water and Borax on me, sliced up my arm, and then fucked me. So, no, didn't tell him about your doggy doctor."

Even after years of intimate association, I can still shock both of these men into silence. "Uh," a red-faced Sam said, "thanks?"

I hopped off of the couch. "You're welcome. Don't sit here unless you want to sit where we—"

"Eva!"

"Just trying to warn you."

I chased after Dean as soon as I was dressed. Since he was pissed already, I figured it wasn't going to get much worse if I played him the voicemail Kevin had left me.

Definitely wrong on that assumption. After hearing the message, Dean charged back into the cabin and started rifling through their remaining burner cells. It didn't take him long to find more voicemails from our missing Prophet (I really hope Kevin had made the drunken one the same night he'd called me or the kid wouldn't have a liver by the time he turned twenty).

The last one contained a sad, angry ultimatum. "Sam, it's been six months. I can only assume you're dead. If not, don't try and reach me. You won't be able to. I won't be calling this number anymore."

Furious, Dean threw the phone at Sam and snarled, "He was our responsibility and you couldn't answer the fucking phone." He snatched up his keys., announced, "I'm goin' on a beer run," and left.

Sam put the phone carefully on the table. Shame was the most prevalent expression on his face, coupled with confusion and worry. I actually felt sorry for the son of a bitch. "Fix it," I said.

A moment more and determination took over. He gave me a short nod before sitting down and opening his laptop. My phone rang as he was typing and I spent the intervening minutes until Dean's return informing an asshole named Bucky Sims on the best way to lure a djinn without dying.

About twenty minutes later, Dean returned with a six pack in hand and got to drinking. Any attempts I made to engage him in a conversation were deflected with a grunt or a glare at his brother. I gave up and left him to his alcohol.

I was trying to translate one of Bobby's Japanese texts when Sam finally had a breakthrough. By filtering out Kevin's voice from his final message, as well as most of the background noise, Sam managed to access the overhead announcement: "Last stop. Centreville."

"Centreville?" Dean asked. "Centreville, where?"

"Michigan."

"And why would Kevin be in Centreville, Michigan?"

"Because," Sam said as he turned his computer around, "his high school girlfriend goes to college near there."

Aw, Facebook selfies of Kevin and his girl. "He can't possibly be stupid enough to go see her."

"Besides," Dean added, "that's a hell of a thin lead."

"Well," Sam said, "it's all we got."

"'We'?"

"You were right. He was our responsibility. So… let's find him, okay?"

I laughed. "Oh, now that Dean's back you're ready to go, is that it?" When Dean cocked an eyebrow at me, I explained, "I tried to make him do this months ago and he wouldn't."

"Because I wasn't ready."

I stood up and threw my book at Sam's chest. "Fuck you," I uttered and stomped out of the cabin.

See, younger siblings always have that selfishness in them. Comes from being the "baby" of the family. My brother had been the same way and we had indulged him more often than not. Sam's was more subtle, and more often than not covered up by his altruism, but there were still times when he reverted. In fact, that whole year of his with the doggy doctor was a reversion, and there was no way of taking it back.

So… fuck him.

I jammed my helmet on and turned the key. I heard the door open and Dean call out, but I ignored it. Instead, I revved the engine and peeled down the dirt and gravel roadway as fast as I safely could.

I had to get away before I did something or said something we'd all regret. It wasn't just Sam that had me upset, although it was a large part of it. What Dean had gone through had obviously changed him in ways I had yet to fathom. I could feel the bruises on my back from when he'd fucked me on the table. And "fuck" was the absolute word for it. We hadn't had sex, we hadn't been making love; he'd fucked me.

Yet, underneath it all, there was one thing that hurt more than all the rest.

"He… just let go."

"It's not fair!" I screamed into my helmet.

I know.

Fuck you, Castiel.

Acknowledgement : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode "We Need to Talk About Kevin" (SPN 8.01).

Author's Note : I just want to say, "Hello! I'm not dead yet!"